


Familiar faces, worn out places

by yasminkhxns



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Masturbation, Self-Harm, Smoking, Some Sex, basically the doctor as human is a mess but wbk, human doctor is sad and has lots of vices ok, human nature au, only a bit though, she really needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-25 12:49:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20724470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yasminkhxns/pseuds/yasminkhxns
Summary: Unruly blonde hair falls over her face as she stares down at the cheap perry in her glass, watching the bubbles float to the top like a metronome as she takes a pull from her cigarette, watching the grey dust fall into the ashtray when she gives it a light tap.–––Another thirteenth Doctor human nature AU because we can't get enough of them.





	1. Oh, the kick won't last for long

**Author's Note:**

> So I jumped on the human nature au bandwagon. I've actually wanted to do one for ages but couldn't figure a story until now! I've actually had so much fun writing this so I hope you enjoy reading it just as much!
> 
> And I know this first chapter is short but I really wanted to end it where it ends so bare with, the rest of them will be considerably longer!
> 
> (Also please be aware of the all the tags, there are quite a few possible triggers for people in this fic so be safe!!)

She sits at the bar, taking another sip from her sixth glass of Babycham before clumsily placing it back down on polished wood, some of the pale liquid spilling over the side and dripping down her fingertips. Unruly blonde hair falls over her face as she stares down at the cheap perry in her glass, watching the bubbles float to the top like a metronome as she takes a pull from her cigarette, watching the grey dust fall into the ashtray when she gives it a light tap. Picking up the glass again, she necks the remainder of the alcohol before stubbing her cigarette out and standing from her stool, almost tripping over her own feet. It was hitting her harder than usual, has she eaten anything today? 

_ Who cares. _

The alcohol has barely worked, as usual. The slight buzz was all she felt as she left the pub, ready to stumble home, and probably drink some more. Pulling a packet from the front pocket of her dungarees, she pulls out another cigarette, lighting it up as she turns down the alley she always took back to her flat. 

She walks past a young lad, shaved head, leather jacket, big boots and her brief eye contact makes him call out to her. “You interested in some merchandise miss?” 

She stops, turning around to face the man, a friendly enough smile on his lips. 

“I’ve got it all. Anything you’d want. Weed, coke, pills…” 

She considers, for a moment, before shaking her head. “No, thank you.” 

He shrugs, “Suit yourself.”

She turns away and carries on walking, but before she gets to the end of the alley, she pauses. _ Would they make me feel something new? _

Slowly, she twists back around and heads toward the man, who she can see in the dim moonlight is now smirking. She stops in front of him and takes a drag before blowing out smoke and asking a question in her thick Yorkshire accent. “How much?”

* * *

Now entering a different pub and heading straight for the bathrooms, she locks herself in a cubicle and pulls the small packet from her pocket, the white powder staring back at her, new and… exciting? 

Putting the toilet lid down and resting one knee on top, she pours out and shapes a couple of lines onto the lid of the tank, quickly searching through her wallet for a five-pound note to roll. Once ready, she takes a deep breath, leaning down and inhaling the drug. After snorting both lines, she leans back against a tiled wall, rubbing at her nose and wiping away any remnants of the powder. 

Once back at the bar, a fresh glass of Babycham ordered, the buzz starts to heighten in the back of her head, and she feels wide awake. Soon there is a man sitting next to her, and he offers to buy her a drink. _ And who is she to refuse such a kind offer? _ They talk. She talks a lot. Can’t shut up. _ Probably the coke. _

She feels confident, more than usual anyway as she reaches a hand out to rest over his arm, catching his gaze to check they’re on the same wavelength. _ They are _. She needs to blow off some steam, the drugs hitting hard. 

The next thing she knows someone is dragging her off the stool and… slinging her arm around their neck? She can hear shouting, but she’s not sure if it’s directed at her. There is a thrumming in her head that could be from the music in the background or the drugs fizzing in her brain. Either way, it’s a feeling, so she’ll take it. 

The air outside is cool when it hits her skin.She shivers, then feels a heavy weight over her shoulders— she is pretty sure it’s this person’s coat. Whoever the stranger is anyway, not that she cares. Is it the man? She hopes so. She could do with a quick fuck. At least she could feel good for a bit. 

They ask her name as they walk and she thinks she tells them. Is it a good idea to tell them? Who knows. But whoever they are, they just _ feel _safe and that’s ok with her. She doesn’t ask for that name, though if she tried to form more than one word right now she can almost guarantee they would come out slurred. 

The jangling of keys ring in her ears and she groans, but the stranger seems to offer words of comfort. Why they would do that? 

Suddenly, there’s a softness underneath her and the weight on her shoulders moves to fall over the top of her. A cool palm presses against her forehead and she enjoys the sensation.She’s boiling hot, the sensation burning through her veins. 

Darkness starts to consume her, and she is grateful for the stranger, so just before being pulled into slumber, she manages to speak one word, “Thanks…” 


	2. I'd rather be alone, but you fermented in my bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> human!13 be real gay in this one y'all

When hazel-green eyes flutter open the next morning, the sun shines bright through a gap in the curtains, forcing them quickly shut again as she rolls onto her side with a groan, pressing her forehead into the pillow beneath her to try and quell the banging that throbs in her temples. 

Tired eyes open again, the morning sun now not as intense, and when she lifts her gaze to the clock on the wall, it reads just after twelve noon. She groans, head falling back to the pillow with a huff, before frowning when she spots a note lay on the coffee table. Sitting up slowly and rubbing her eyes, she reaches out to pick up the small piece of paper and finds delicate loops gracing the page. 

_ Jennifer, _

_ I brought you home last night. Please call me when you read this so I know you’re not dead. _

_ 0532 641 7883_

_ Yasmin x _

Jennifer laughs to herself, though it tugs at her head and her hand comes up to press between her eyes when she suddenly feels sick. It’s only a few seconds before she is up and off the sofa, stumbling into her kitchen and retching into the sink as last night's mistakes make their appearance. She practically hangs over the worktop, body still tired, limbs aching, and her nose, in particular, burning. 

After sluggishly flopping back down onto the sofa and tugging what she presumes is Yasmin’s coat back over her she reaches for her telephone, bringing the handset to her ear as she dials the number into the base. It rings out, and she twists her fingers around the cord impatiently until she hears the click signalling an answer. 

“Hello?”

“Yasmin. It’s Jennifer.” 

“Jennifer, hi! So you’re not dead then?”

She chuckles. “Afraid not. Now you have to deal with this really weird phone call.”

Yasmin laughs back down the line at her. “Yeah, I guess I do. Though I hope you don’t do this often. You were in a real state last night. Lucky it was me who found you.” she jokes lightly, though there is an underlying concern in her tone. “Are you ok?” 

“I’m fine.” Jennifer lies. “I’m always fine, me.” 

There’s an awkward silence before Jennifer decides to break it. “Yasmin?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve got a very pretty voice, are you just as pretty in real life?” she flirts.

“I– um– I don’t–”

“Can we meet for coffee?” Jennifer pushes, intrigued by her saviour. “You can fill in the blanks for me about last night.”

Yasmin hesitates on the line, and it makes Jennifer deflate for some reason. “Um– ok.” 

Jennifer feels a grin unconsciously pull at her lips and she stands, a new kind of buzz making it impossible to sit still. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Yasmin sounds more sure. “Yeah, ok. What time?” 

“Say around two? Do you know old Joe’s cafè in town?”

“Yep.”

“Wanna meet there?”

“Sounds good.”

“Brilliant! See ya, Yasmin!” Jennifer goes to put the phone down when she hears the woman’s voice again. 

“Yaz!”

“I’m sorry?” she asks, confused.

“My friends. They call me Yaz.”

“Oh, right. Well, I’ll see you at two, Yaz.”

* * *

Jennifer finally pushes through the doors of Old Joe’s at a quarter past two. Having changed out of her dungarees, she instead wore a pair of high waist acid wash jeans, a denim jacket to match, and a traffic light striped jumper underneath, her feet clad in a pair of white plimsolls.

It wasn’t hard to spot Yaz, being the only none-white woman in the cafè. The bell chiming as Jennifer entered made her look up, dark curls falling over her shoulder and for a moment, Jennifer forgets how to breathe. 

After shaking herself out of her initial shock, she heads to the back of the cafè and hovers at the table. “Yaz?” 

“Jennifer.” 

“Please, call me Jenny, Jennifer is far too formal sounding,” she remarks as she slides into the seat opposite Yaz, who up close, is even more beautiful than she realised. “Wow, you really are as pretty as your voice.” Jennifer lets slip out, relishing in how Yaz is immediately flustered. 

“Stop it,” Yaz replies playfully, though the blush on her cheeks is obvious. 

“You want a drink?” Jenny offers, and Yaz shakes her head.

“It’s ok, I’ll buy my own.” she goes to stand but Jenny beats her to it, standing and pushing Yaz back down into the seat by her shoulder.

“No please, I insist. It’s the least I can do… after last night. So what do you want?”

“Tea, please.” Yaz resigns with a warm smile, and Jenny hopes she can see it again. 

After paying and bringing their drinks back to the table, Jenny pours an obscene amount of sugar into her own, much to the dismay of Yaz. “What?”

“That is a disgusting amount of sugar,” she says, grimacing.

“Eh! Don’t judge.”

“I most certainly will judge.” Yaz laughs, her smile going wide and eyes creasing small, and it makes something flutter in Jenny’s chest. _ That’s new. _

“So erm, what happened? Last night, I mean. I literally blacked out, don’t remember a thing.” 

Yaz’s smile falls away, brows furrowing in worry, and Jenny immediately wishes she could bring the brightness back. “Well…” 

* * *

_ It was late, and Yaz knew she shouldn’t be out, it might’ve been the 1980’s but it wasn’t exactly safe for a woman of her – skin tone – to be hanging around the streets at night. She was about to head back, knowing the boys would be worried if they woke up and she wasn’t there, but just as she walked past the Royal Oak pub and glanced inside, there she was. The Doctor. Well, not really the Doctor, not right now. Now it was Jennifer Smith, and from what Yaz had established from the minimal amount she had seen her the past couple of weeks, she was a complete and utter mess. _

_ She stood for a moment, watching. It was strange, seeing the Doctor drink and smoke and flirt with a man. A man who was buying her drinks as she talked animatedly, so invested in conversation apparently, that she didn’t see the fizz of something being slipped into her drink. But Yaz did. _

_ She knew she wasn’t really supposed to interact with the Doctor’s human form, but there was no way she was leaving her now, so she turned back and headed into the pub, immediately gaining funny looks. God, she missed 2019 already. Wasting no time, Yaz made her way over to where Jennifer sat, already taking a sip of the spiked drink. _

_ “Shit,” Yaz whispered under her breath. _

_ When Jennifer caught her eye, Yaz took it as her chance, hoping she’d understand and play along. “Oh my god! It really is you! How’re doing, it’s been so long.” Yaz asked confidently as she sidled up to Jennifer, who looked at her in confusion through what Yaz could see were completely blown pupils. _

_ “Huh?” _

_ “Don’t you remember? From your old work?” she exaggerated, praying Jennifer would catch on. _

_ She didn’t. “Who are you?” _

_ Yaz’s nerves were on edge at the heavy slur in Jennifer’s voice and they only increased when the man rose from his stool, standing significantly taller than her. “Do you mind?” _

_ Great. Yaz thought. Time for plan B. “Do _ ** _you _ ** _ mind? I saw what you put in her drink.” Yaz accused, looking down at Jennifer, her pupils still blown but her eyes heavy. Yaz could spot drug use a mile off, and Jennifer was starting to crash. She needed to get her out, fast. _

_ The man looked around the pub, all eyes were on them now as he feigned ignorance. “What’re you talking about?” _

_ “You spiked her drink, I’m not blind.” _

_ “What’re you trying to accuse me of?” his voice rose as he took a step forward. _

_ “You _ ** _ know _ ** _ what. Now back off mate.” Yaz held her ground as she attempted to lift Jennifer from her stool.The woman now a dead weight. _

_ “‘S… the room spinnin’?” she tried to ask as Yaz slung her arm over her shoulder. _

_ “Where d’you think you’re going with her? She’s coming home with me!” the man shouted. _

_ Having had enough, Yaz reached into the pocket of her jacket for her back up plan, and pulled out the psychic paper, shoving it in the man’s face. “I said back off. Seriously.” _

_ He read it, and immediately his face dropped. “Police? Shit. Didn’t think they let paki’s be cops.” _

_ Yaz seethed with frustration at the slur, but held it in as the man backed off, letting her leave with a drunk and high Jennifer. _

_ They struggled down the road, Jennifer having trouble picking her feet up, and Yaz was thankful she knew where Jennifer lived, and that it wasn’t far. It took much longer than it should’ve to get back to Jennifer’s flat, and when they did, Yaz practically dropped her down on the sofa, exhausted. She shifted her coat on Jennfier so that it covered her like a blanket, and pressed her palm to her forehead to find it boiling hot. As Jennifer murmured her thanks before finally passing out, Yaz watched her for a moment, still unbelieving that she was what a human version of the Doctor was like. _

* * *

By the time Yaz finishes explaining, they’ve finished their drinks and Jenny struggles to look her in the eye. _ Ok, that was worse than I initially thought. _

“Can’t believe I almost let that happen. God knows what _ would’ve _ happened if you hadn’t been there.” she finally looks up to see compassion shining in Yaz’s eyes. “Thank you, Yaz.” she says sincerely, reaching out to clasp a dark hand in her own. And when she does, the fluttering in Jenny’s chest increases tenfold, sending a jolt of shock through her that almost makes her pull away, but she doesn’t, instead electing to grasp a little tighter. 

Yaz’s warm smile returns at the action as she rubs her thumb over Jenny’s knuckle before her eyes widen when she realises what she’s doing, and stops. “I’m just glad you’re alright, Jenny.” Yaz pulls her hand away and the butterflies that were swarming in Jenny’s chest puff into dust. And the rare feeling is gone. She doesn’t hide the disappointment on her face, uncaring of it Yaz sees it or not, leaving her hand to lie on the table where their hands were briefly joined.

Concern washes over Yaz’s face when she opens her mouth to speak, “Jenny–”

“A walk!” she butts in, not wanting to talk about her feelings, or lack thereof, with essentially a total stranger. 

“Huh?” 

“A walk,” she repeats, “Do you want to go for a walk?” Jenny asks. Yaz might be a stranger but she doesn’t want her to go, not quite yet.

“Sure?”

“Great!” Jenny stands, tucking her chair in and holding a hand out for Yaz, who tentatively takes it again as Jenny inwardly pumps her fist, the fluttering feeling returning. Desperate to keep a hold of it for as long as she can. She guides them through the tables and out the doors, crossing the road to the local park, keeping their fingers wound together.

They settle into a light stroll along the path, out of the way of everybody else, the silence between them oddly comfortable. As they walk, Jenny takes in Yaz’s profile, the light breeze blowing natural curls behind her, a bunch of the dark tresses twisted into a bun that sits on the crown of her head. Her jaw is sharp, and her eyes shine bright in the afternoon sun with notes of different browns, similar to the brandy she finds herself regularly sipping on in an evening. They gleam with a youthfulness that Jenny didn’t see in herself when she looked in the mirror. Her eyes looked thousands of years old. So much age misted them for someone in their thirties. 

Jenny stares for too long, and before she can turn away, Yaz catches her eye and ducks her head shyly. “What?”

“Have I already mentioned how pretty you are?” Jenny shamelessly flirts, giving Yaz’s hand a light squeeze. She’s only known the woman in a sober state for about an hour but it feels like she’s known her for years. 

“Well, so are you!” Yaz playfully returns, throwing Jenny off guard, feeling her own cheeks heat up at the compliment. 

“How long have you lived around here Yaz?” she asks, changing the subject.

“Erm, not long to be honest.” she answers, and Jenny is surprised she doesn’t return the question, but answers it anyway. 

“I’ve lived around here for…” when she thinks about it, Jenny isn’t sure, and when she looks back at Yaz, there is a hint of panic in her eyes. _ Weird. _ “You know what, it doesn’t matter.” she brushes off when she realises she can’t actually remember. _ Probably drugs messing up my memory. _

Jenny keeps walking, lost in her own head until she finds herself tugged back by the hand entwined with Yaz’s, and turns to find the young woman has stopped walking. “Yaz? You alright?”

“Yeah, I– I just realised, I need to go.” she says with a slight tremble to her voice, hand falling from Jenny’s. And the feeling is gone again, her chest hollow. 

“Yaz? Did I do something wrong?” she panics.

“What? No! No, of course not, I’ve just– I’ve remembered I’m gonna be late to something I almost forgot about so I need to go. I’m sorry.” she takes a few more steps back and it feels like any hope Jenny had is slowly drifting away with her.

“Call me?” she asks, almost pleading. Yasmin makes her _ feel, _ she _ needs _more of her.

“I– ok.” she finishes. And Jenny rushes up to her, pulling a pen from her bag and lifting Yaz’s hand to write her number on her palm in blue ink. When she’s done, she doesn’t pull her hand away, her eyes practically begging Yaz not to go, wanting to keep feeling. But she does, turning to walk away at a significantly faster pace than before. 

* * *

Jenny’s choice of vice for the evening is polishing off a quarter of a bottle of brandy, the dark liquid that sloshes around her glass reminding her of a certain young woman’s eyes, making her feel even more miserable than before, not that she cares. Miserable seems to be her default mood anyway. 

As Jenny kneels in front of the TV, twisting the knob in search of something decent, she comes up short, and turns it off. She necks the rest of her glass, dumping it on the coffee next to the note Yaz left her and heads to her room. 

Once ready for bed, Jenny clambers under her overly patterned bedsheets and flicks off her bedside lamp. After about an hour of attempting to sleep, she gives up, instead thinking back to the time she spent with Yaz. She thinks about her dark skin, her curly hair, so easy to twist her fingers into, her full lips and soft hands. Her own fingers start to trail down the fabric that covers her stomach until they reach her hips, rucking up her nightgown and dipping down into wet heat that she’s almost surprised to find. Her back arches off the bed as she easily slips two fingers past her entrance, the thought of only Yaz on her mind as she pumps them quickly inside herself, thumb rubbing against her clit to bring her to a rapidly building release. It didn’t take long for Jenny’s toes to curl into the mattress, a searing heat coursing through her as she pants breathlessly. She’s never had an orgasm quite like it before, not from what she can remember, which never seems to be much anyway.

  
“Yasmin… what _ are _ you doing to me?”


	3. Now my body and mind are so distant, don't know how to escape from this prison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sad times jenny smith
> 
> do you guys wanna give her a hug bc i really wanna give her a hug

The lights are off, there’s a spring digging into her back from his lumpy mattress, and when he presses inside her it’s... nice, but nothing like the magic her fingers worked the other night.

Yaz hasn’t called her, it’s been three days, and it seems even drunk sex can’t get it off her mind. She closes her eyes, wraps her arms around his neck and tries to enjoy it. But he has broad shoulders, short hair and a slightly hairy back, making it near impossible to imagine it could be anyone else. So she pushes him off, sits up and swings her legs over the edge of the bed. “Yeah sorry, this just isn’t working for me.” she states as she reaches to start pulling on her underwear and trousers.

“What?” the man asks, completely bewildered. “You can’t just–”

“Oh, I can! And I will. I’m sorry. I really am, but you know– you’ve got a hand. Use it!” she offers him a blank smile as she finishes buttoning her shirt, almost finding his dumbfounded expression amusing. “Um… bye!”

She walks out of the bedroom, leaving whatever his name is to finish himself off, grateful he doesn’t decide to chase after her as she leaves his house. Luckily she’s not far from her own flat where a glass of brandy awaits her. She lights up a cigarette to pass the time on her way home and before she knows it, she’s unlocking her flat door.

Within five minutes she’s flicked the TV on and is sunk into her sofa, a glass of brandy swirling in one hand, cigarette in the other. She watches through bleary eyes some show that is trying to be funny and failing miserably – _ or is she just not feeling anything again – _ so she takes a final pull from her cigarette, rolls up her sleeve, and stubs it out with a hiss through her teeth. She could almost laugh — the amount of marks that lie there now could make a face. _ How stupid. _ But she needs the burn, the pain is a feeling, along with the heat, and she’ll take anything at this point. Until she can even so much as graze Yaz’s skin with her fingertips again. Well, more like _ if. _

After flicking the butt into the already crammed ashtray that rests on her coffee table and taking another sip of her drink, she folds her arms as she barely concentrates on the TV, her eyes not taking long to flutter shut, drifting her away into slumber. And she dreams. She dreams of new years,_ lots _of different new years. Someone called Giuseppe Piazzi a very long way away and she’s with a woman. Somehow, she knows she’s watching every feature of her face contort with happiness yet, she can’t see it at all. The woman is a blur, a heavy fog concealing her face and even her voice is muffled, the two men next to her the same. The only thing she can hear is her own northern accent but even that sounds… _off. _There’s a blue box, what for she has no idea, but they go inside and she doesn’t know what she’s expecting but the swirling drop of darkness as she falls, and falls and _falls _isn’t it. Until she can tell she’s reaching the end of the pit and before she smacks into the ground––

Jenny bolts up off the sofa, sucking in a deep breath and cursing as she feels liquid against her thigh, looking down to see she spilt the remainder of her brandy down her jeans. She grows rapidly frustrated, tension warping and building inside her. Building at her same confusing dreams repeatedly forcing her awake, the emptiness in her chest constantly weighing her down. Her arm is sore, she’s spilt her drink, and Yaz _ didn’t _call. In a rush of anger she screams, standing as she throws her glass at the wall. It smashes, pieces flying around the room as she winces, one shard bouncing back and catching her hand. She feels breathless, her chest heaving when she brings her hand up to assess the damage. She doesn’t realise she’s crying until a tear drop splashes into the blood that drips from the tip of her finger. She just watches for a long moment, as the blood runs down her finger, and falls. Watches another couple of tears drip onto her hand, mixing into the red liquid, before she finally snaps out the trance with a shake of her head. “God’s sake.” she murmurs, heading into the kitchen to clean herself up. 

When Jenny lies in bed that night, she wells up again, the lump in her throat too thick to stop as more tears leave tracks down her cheek, her bandaged hand flying up to clamp over her mouth in an attempt to cover her loud sobs that echo around the room. _ Why is she even crying? _ It feels like she’s missing someone, when she has no one to miss. Her chest aches, the black hole inside it causing chaos, creating more confusion as to the yearning she feels so strongly. She has no friends, no family. She’s alone, has been for… for how long? Why can she never remember? Maybe she should stop drinking. But then she wouldn’t feel anything at all. 

Her life is as empty as her insides, there is _ no one _to miss. She should just stop being so sad and stupid. But then Yasmin pops into her head. 

* * *

Jenny wakes up the next morning to the sound of the phone reverberating through her flat. It rings through her head, forcing her to sit up in confusion. No one ever called her,_ unless? _ She shot out of bed, sprinting through her flat, almost falling over the coffee table as she lunged for the phone, yanking the handset from the base as she lifts it to her ear. “Hello?” she’s out of breath. _ Way to sound desperate, idiot. _

“Jenny?” 

_ It’s her. _“Yaz, hiya! How’re you doing? I didn’t think you were gonna call.” she tries to act casual but can hear the insecurity in her tone, and she’s sure Yaz hears it too.

“Yeah, I’m good thanks. And I’m really sorry, I ended up being busy the last couple days so I just never got chance. But what about you? How’re you, Jenny? You doing ok?”

Jenny feels the ice around her heart crack at Yaz’s concern, she’s grinning, and for once it feels genuine. “Oh, you know, I’m f–” she goes to lie, but something about the sincerity in Yaz’s concern stops her. Makes her _ want _to be truthful. “I don’t know how I am, to be totally honest.” her voice trembles slightly, not used to being so open. 

“Oh…” there’s a pause, and Jenny’s nerves vibrate all the way up to her fingertips. “If– if you’re not doing ok I could maybe, come over? Seems like you could do with some company.” she hears muffled voices in the background and Yaz’s quiet scold as she reels at the thought of seeing her again. Getting that rare feeling in her chest, the one that fills up the empty void that usually twists around her heart. 

“Yes! Yes, that’d be lovely, actually.” 

“Ok, I’ll be about half an hour, if that’s alright?”

“That’s brilliant.” she beams down the phone. “See you in a bit.”

“Bye.” the line goes dead, and Jenny’s smile fades as she looks around at the mess that is her front room. 

“Shit.” 

* * *

By the time her door buzzes, signalling Yaz’s arrival, Jenny has washed, dressed and cleaned up her flat as best she can. She’s clothed in a pair of blue floral print jeans and an oversized magenta shirt, collar flipped upwards around her neck. Jenny rushes to the door, pressing the button to let Yaz into the building while she impatiently waits for her to climb the stairs. She only has to knock once before Jenny flings the door open in greeting. “Hiya Yaz!” 

“Hey, Jenny.” she smiles politely.

Her gaze runs over Yaz’s form, taking in her attire of burgundy dungarees, checkered shirt and white chucks, natural curls free and falling around her face. _ Just as beautiful as I remember then. _

She ushers her inside and into the lounge, gesturing to her floral patterned sofa. “Please, sit down. D’you want a cuppa?” 

“That’d be lovely, thanks.” Yaz smiles, her gaze quickly wandering around the rest of the room, not that there’s much to take in. It lacks personality, much like the rest of the flat. Before she can start to overthink again, Jenny ducks into the kitchen, fills up the kettle and pop its in on the stove, waiting for the whistle. 

“How’d you take it?” Jenny calls when the kettle boils. 

“Strong, one sugar, please. Not like the abomination you made the other day.” Yaz chuckles.

Jenny peaks her head around the door frame, feigning mock offense. “Oi! Stop judging my tea.”

“Is it tea? Or is it just a cup of hot sugar?” she teases.

Jenny scoffs, “You’re a bully.” 

She hears Yaz laugh heartily from the other room, and what she wouldn’t give to hear that sound again. 

When Jenny’s re-enters the room, two mugs in hand, she sits down on the other end of the sofa and curls her feet underneath herself, passing one of drinks to Yaz, who takes it with a gentle thank you. Yaz’s gaze flicks around the room, unsettling as she blows on the hot beverage, and Jenny’s noticed Yaz does this a lot. She can’t ever seem to look at her for very long, and when she does, she catches the strangest emotions in her eyes. Confusion, worry, panic, even sadness, and she wonders why. Why does this woman look at her so strangely? And Jenny, as always, is straight to the point.

“Why do you look at me funny?” she asks bluntly.

Yaz’s head snaps to her, panic painting her pupils that she’s unable to hide, _ again _ . “You’re doing it now. You always look at me… _ weird. _And I don’t know why. Did I do something? To make you, I dunno, uncomfortable?” she can hear the anxiety in her tone, tapping against the side of her mug nervously. 

“What? Jenny, no! No, of course not.” Yaz reaches a hand out, and Jenny races to grab it, chasing the warmth that melts the ice cold band around her heart. “I’m sorry for making you feel like that.” she reassures, rubbing a thumb along her knuckles, frowning when it brushes over cotton rather than skin. Yaz lifts her hand to find bandages, quickly putting her mug down and wrapping both her hands around Jenny’s. “Jenny, what happened?”

“It’s nothing.” she deflects, and it’s the first time she feels like pulling away from Yaz, the younger woman being the one to hold tighter now.

“Jenny.” Yaz repeats sternly. _ What is it about this woman that makes her want to be honest? _

“I… I smashed a glass last night, cut my hand.” she looks down, feeling slightly embarrassed, and almost a little guilty that didn’t tell the whole truth. 

“What’re you like?” Yaz scolds playfully, and tugs at her hand a little, almost like she was going to bring it up to mouth and leave a kiss on the wound, but changing her mind at the last second. When their eyes finally meet, properly, for the first time since Yaz walked in, the feelings hit Jenny so intensely that her breath catches in her throat. For once, her feelings aren’t muted and muffled by a fog in her chest, instead bursting out through an increased heart rate, and heat in her cheeks. She has to break the contact, both eye and hand, not used to such heightened emotion. She reaches out to the coffee table for her cigarette packet before pausing. 

“Do you mind?”

“Oh, erm– no. Go for it.” 

She lights up, and the drag calms her down. Stealing another glance at Yaz, she struggles to pull her gaze away again. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” Jenny shakes her head, “It’s just, sometimes, I dunno. It feels like I’ve known you for years, but you’re basically still a stranger.” And there’s that panic again, briefly flashing through Yaz’s eyes. _ Why? _But she doesn’t say anything this time. 

“Yeah, I get what you mean, sort of.” Yaz smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes and Jenny can feel anxiety shoot through her. 

“So,” Yaz picks her mug back up, quickly changing the subject. “You said on the phone you weren’t feeling too good?” 

Yaz’s concern for her wellbeing never ceases to surprise Jenny, and although she wants to open up, her new wave of anxiety holds her back. “Oh, that. Think I just felt a little rough this morning, I’m fine now!” she takes a long pull from her cigarette, though she can see her hand tremble slightly. 

“Jenny–”

“I’d been out drinking the night before so I think it was just the hangover making my head fuzzy–”

“_ Jenny–” _

“Honestly though I’m fine, I’m always fine–”

“Jenny!” Yaz snaps, finally cutting her off. “What’s wrong? Seriously?”

Her anxiety only increases, all consuming and suddenly she’s standing from the sofa, ready to bolt. She’s so confused, she wants Yaz close, but right now, she wants her as far away as possible. “You know what, no need to worry about me Yaz, I’m fine. I’m being a bother, I can tell– I’m gonna just…” she nods to the door and goes to leave, uncaring of leaving someone in her own flat. 

“No, Jenny! Wait!” she hears Yaz call but she’s already gone, taking two steps at a time in desperate need of fresh air.

She bursts outside and takes in a gulp of the breeze that blows her hair around her face, heading in the direction of the nearest pub, hoping to drink her insecurities away.


	4. How do you sleep when you lie to me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and you thought the last chapter was sad LOOOOOOOL

The air is hot, music is thrumming in her ears that she’s pretty sure is Abba, and sweaty bodies are all pressed up against each other. One in particular is trying to press against her, no matter how disinterested she acts. He leans against the bar as he talks about his brand new Macintosh computer as if it’s supposed to impress her, so she necks the remainder of the hooch in her bottle before managing to call the barman to get her another. 

As she takes a sip from her new bottle, her eyes wander, roaming over the forms of the women surrounding her before she’s distracted by a tap on the arm. It’s the man again, asking if she’s listening and she half nods in reply. A man isn’t what she’s after tonight. He tries to move a hand to her hip, fingers already trying to roam further behind and she smacks it away. His expression sours. “What’s your problem?” 

“Is it not obvious I’m not interested, mate?” she practically snarls back, not in the mood to be dealing with the man’s damaged ego, or any man for that matter. 

“Hang on a minute–” he starts, grabbing Jenny’s arm when she tries to walk away. “You can’t just–”

“Oh I can.” she deadpans, yanking her arm from his grip. “Go find someone else to bother.”

“No! You don’t get to just–” this time when he’s cut off, it’s not by Jenny’s words, but by her fist smacking him in the nose with a crunch at the connection.

He falls back into the crowd, who disperse around him, hand flying to his now bloody face in shock. Before she can be dragged from the club, Jenny sifts her way into the crowd and away from the scene in search of someone much more appealing to _ not _talk to. 

It doesn’t take her long. She’s taller than Jenny was looking for but she’ll do. Dark skin, brunette, curly hair and _ interested. _

Soon enough she’s kissing her, she’s good, and just what Jenny needs. All curves and soft lips, her hands wrapping around her waist while one of Jenny’s hangs around her neck, the other drooping at her side still clasping her bottle of hooch. But soon, the hooch is gone and their hands are roaming, the heat between Jenny’s legs is exactly the feeling she was craving tonight and she hopes later this woman can turn it into an inferno. 

Though suddenly there’s a hand on her shoulder and it’s pulling her away. She thinks it might be security, that the bloke she punched pointing her out in the crowd to be kicked out. But when she turns, she finds Yaz staring back at her. “Yaz? What’re you doing here?” she asks, suddenly overwhelmed by her presence. 

“Who’s this?” she hears from behind, but she completely ignores it, why be interested in the knockoff version when the real one is right in front of you. 

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” she shouts over the blaring sound of Depeche Mode. “As you decided to just leave me in your flat! Now come on.” Yaz grabs her hand to try to pull her through the crowd but she briefly holds her ground, remembering the woman she was just kissing.

“Wait!” she calls to Yaz, but when she turns around, the woman is already gone, so she allows Yaz’s second tug to move her feet.

By the time they’re outside, it’s drizzling and the glare of the streetlamps hurt her eyes. _ How long had she been in there? _She pats around for her cigarette packet, pulling it out to find it a little crushed, but the cylinder vices inside still in tact. She pulls one out, lighting it up with shaky hands before offering Yaz one who declines. 

They start to walk, and she stumbles a bit, the action making Yaz reach out to wrap an arm around her waist to keep her stable. Jenny sinks into the touch, craving Yaz’s warmth as she mumbles her thanks. 

There’s a tense silence between them, lingering heavy in the night, and it’s Yaz who decides to finally break it. “I was so worried about you, you know. I had no clue where you’d gone. It’s not like I can just call you.” 

Jenny laughs, “Call me? Imagine that! It’d be like carrying a bloody brick around with me!” the tension eases when she hears Yaz try to cover her own chuckle next to her, and Jenny takes a proud drag of her cigarette, blowing the smoke up into the night sky. 

When the laughter fades and quiet encroaches on them again, Yaz fills it once more. “Why did you run, Jenny?” she asks softly, worry seeping through her tone.

It makes a lump form in Jenny’s throat, thick and unwelcome as her eyes betray her by misting over. She hates talking about feelings, mainly for the fact that as long as she can remember she hasn’t had any. It’s only recently, only Yaz, that’s forced them from their slumber. And it’s terrifying. “I–” she tries, cutting herself off with another drag, not wanting Yaz to hear the tremble she knows is in her voice. She huffs, frustrated at herself and has another attempt, pushing past the barricade in her chest. _ Yaz is just trying to help. _“I– I was scared.” she admits smoke falling from her mouth through the words. 

“Why?” Yaz presses gently, stopping them under a streetlamp to get Jenny to focus on her, the light streaming down on both of them. 

“Because,” and she feels a tear drip down her face when she looks into chocolate orbs, and she almost sobs at Yaz’s patience for her alone. “Because I don’t feel _ anything _ Yaz, I haven’t for as long as I can remember. I just have this constant nothingness and sadness weighing down _ . _ ” she thinks this is the first time she’s told anyone this, and now the dam’s broken, she can’t stop. “I use alcohol, smoking, sex, even bloody drugs to try to _ feel _ something else. To not feel like I’m being crushed under some kind of pressure that I don’t even know what it _ is. _ ” the tears are falling now and she can’t stop them. Her makeup is probably running, but she doesn’t care, _ when does she ever care. _ “But then _ you _ just, swoop into my life like some saviour and suddenly a world that’s felt black and white to me for _ so long _ bursts with colour, just because you touch me. And ever since the first time you did, I’ve craved it, craved your touch because it makes my chest flutter and get warm and I swear to _ God _ I can’t remember the last time I felt anything like that. You’re like a drug, and it’s– _ terrifying. _” 

“D– Jenny. I’m so sorry. I had no idea you were feeling this way. You should’ve told me. I want to help you. Please,” Yaz grabs Jenny’s face, wiping away still falling tears and now smudged makeup. “let me help you.” 

Jenny feels her lip quiver as she nods, allowing Yaz to pull her into a desperate hug that she quickly reciprocates, clinging to the fabric of her dungarees as the rain starts to fall heavier. 

* * *

By the time they make it back to Jenny’s flat, both women are soaked, shivering from the cool moisture coating their skin. Jenny escorts them both to her bedroom, rummaging through her cupboard in search of warm clothes for them. Yaz has some initial reluctance, but gives in at Jenny’s insistence. “I’m not having you catch a cold Yaz, I’ll feel so guilty if you do.” 

They quickly change, stolen glances flicking over their shoulders, and by the time both women are cozied up in brightly coloured jumpers and sweats, blushes coat their cheeks. Yaz stands awkwardly for a moment while Jenny relaxes onto her bed, shuffling under the covers. She pats the spare side in invitation. “Join me?” she asks tentatively, the uncertainty clear in Yaz’s eyes as she hesitantly steps a foot forward. She finally sinks down into the bed, pulling the cover right up to her chin, keeping in the warmth, and Jenny thinks she’s never seen anything so adorable. That feeling in her chest making itself known again. She reaches out, turning off her bedside lamp before shifting onto her side, facing the young woman in the bed next to her, Yaz copying her movements. She takes her in, a strip of moonlight falling across her face, shadows blooming across the curve of her nose and the set of her eyes, and Jenny is convinced Yasmin is one of the most beautiful things she’s ever seen. 

“How’re you feeling?” Yaz asks, her words the pin that pops their little bubble. 

“Better,” Jenny admits truthfully. Because she does, especially now that Yaz is so close, in her bed and though the room is shrouded in darkness, to Jenny, it’s never been brighter. 

Yaz smiles softly, obviously seeing the honesty in Jenny’s eyes, and it only grows when Jenny finds her hand under the sheets, their fingers tangling together. A thumb runs over her knuckles, a movement she notices Yaz does a lot, and usually she appreciates it but this time it stings and she can’t stop the hiss that escapes her lips. She watches Yaz’s face contort in concern as she pulls their hands from underneath the covers, pulling them close to her face and gasping when finds scuffed knuckles. “Jenny, what happened?” 

She shrugs nonchalantly, trying her best to brush it off. “You should’ve seen the other guy.”

“Jenny.” Yaz retorts, unimpressed. 

She sighs, as the truth falls from her mouth again. _ Curse you Yasmin. _“This stupid guy wouldn’t leave me alone and I’d had enough. Think I broke his nose.” she finishes, feeling smug, though the feeling quickly dissipates at Yaz’s shocked expression. 

“That’s not like you.” she murmurs, the statement confusing to Jenny.

“What?”

“Nothing.” And there’s that flash of panic again in Yaz’s eyes, but before Jenny can bring it up, something soft presses against her knuckles. It’s Yaz’s lips, and they set her knuckles on fire in the best way, _ and what was she about to question again? _

She kisses every knuckle before placing their hands back down on the mattress between them, on top of the sheets this time. Silence blankets them again like a second layer, but this time it’s comfortable and it gives Jenny a chance to memorise every feature of Yaz’s face, from the mole on her chin to her perfect brows. However, she’s pulled from making her mental photo album by Yaz’s soft voice, not that she’s complaining. 

“That girl in the club,” she starts in an almost whisper, nerves making her voice waver and it intrigues Jenny. “the one you were kissing– she looked like me.” 

Jenny smirks and shuffles forward slightly, to the point where Yaz’s proximity intoxicates her. “Did you want it to be you?” she whispers back, anything louder might break the tension suffocating them. 

“I…” Yaz trails off, and for Jenny, that answers the question. She leans in, her chapped lips pressing against soft ones, her free hand moving to rest atop Yaz’s cheek. She panics for a split second when Yaz doesn’t respond, thinking she’s misread, but quickly relaxes when the other woman starts to reciprocate. 

Jenny wastes no time deepening the kiss, pressing herself more fully into Yaz and pushing her down so her back hits the mattress. One of Yaz’s hands moves to twist into golden locks, the other sliding around the back of Jenny’s neck to pull her closer. The action has Jenny moaning against Yaz’s lips, and the hand that wasn’t supporting her weight trails down to the hem of her jumper. She reluctantly pulls back from the kiss, their heavy breaths the only noise she can hear as she waits for Yaz’s consent that she receives with a quick nod. When her fingers dip under the fabric to roam across a toned stomach, she feels like her chest is about to explode. She’s never felt anything like this, she doesn’t think, and it’s a little overwhelming but in a good way, _ a really good way _ , and she doesn’t think she ever wants to stop kissing Yasmin. Her skin is on fire with so many sensations and her heart is pounding in her chest and the heat pooling between her legs is the hottest it’s ever been. It might be the happiest she’s felt in a long time, the fact that she’s feeling happiness is an achievement in itself. So when Yaz’s pushes her away and shoots up into a sitting position, tears shining in her dark eyes, Jenny can _ feel _her heart freeze over, thicker than ever. “I’m sorry.” Yaz’s voice trembles, and the butterflies in Jenny’s chest turn to ash. “I can’t. I can’t do this, I’m so sorry.” 

And it feels like Jenny is drowning. Except it’s not in water, it’s in thick, black tar that’s twisting and constricting around her throat, making it impossible to breathe, but not impossible to cry. _ She’s cried too much lately _. But it doesn’t matter, because the tears are already falling from her eyes, sad and ugly. She’s never felt worse, the crushing weight she usually feels smashing down on her back like a ten-tonne anvil as she pitifully asks, “Why..?” 

“I just–” Yaz pulls the covers from herself and stands, “I just can’t. Not right now. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Why? Why wouldn’t it be right? What have I done wrong? Yaz please, I need you. You make me _ feel _ I _ need _to feel.”

“D– Jenny, I can’t! I just can’t it’s not fair on you.” Yaz can’t look her in the eye and it frustrates her. 

“You did it again.” 

“What?” Yaz’s head snaps up. _ That got her attention. _

“You started saying a name that begins with D and corrected yourself. You’ve done that twice now. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Who do you think I am?”

Yaz shakes her head, feigning ignorance though the lie is clear in her eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do!” Jenny shouts, hopping out of bed and rounding on Yaz. “You keep giving me these funny looks, like I’m gonna break any second and the next moment, you look panicked, like you’re terrified of me! And then you keep nearly saying that other name. And now–” she huffs, “now you push me away and you won’t even tell me why!” Tears continue to fall from her eyes as her voice trembles more with each word. 

“Jenny, it’s just at the moment. We can’t do this at the moment.”

“Why do you keep saying things like that?! Is there something wrong with me Yaz? Do you know something about me that I don’t?!”

“I– no! I–”

“You’re lying. I can see it,” she aggressively points, “ — in your eyes. Do you know why I’m like this?”

“Jenny–”

“Why I feel like I’m being crushed by someone unknown weight _ all _ the time. Why I feel constantly miserable. You, Yaz are the only thing that seems to make me feel _ something, _ sometimes even just a little bit happy. So, why you? Why no one else? What’s so special about _ you, _Yasmin?” she asks, jabbing at Yaz’s chest and just about holding back a sob. She watches as tears spill from Yaz’s own eyes, and seeing her upset makes her feel even worse. But as usual, she can’t understand why. 

“Jenny…” 

Suddenly feeling exhausted from her outburst, Jenny drops back down onto the bed, shoulders hunched as her posture droops, head falling into her hands as she lets free the sob she was trying desperately to hold back. She feels hands rest gently on each of knees, rubbing them in an attempted form of comfort. And after a brief moment of silence, apart from Jenny’s sobs, Yaz reaches up to peel her hands away from her face, allowing them to lock eyes. “Jenny…” 

“What’s wrong with me, Yaz?” she asks, voice hoarse and watery, “Why am I so messed up?” Another choked sob escapes her throat and before she can react, Yaz’s arms are wrapping around her in a tight hug, her strong arms squeezing hard, Jenny’s quickly looping around the younger woman’s waist as she bawls into her neck. 

Once she’s finally calmed down, Jenny pulls away from Yaz, taking in the other woman’s sympathetic smile as she stands, and panic sets in straight away. “Where are you going?” Jenny asks desperately, reaching out for Yaz’s hand. 

“Wait here. I’ll be back in one sec, I promise.” Yaz gives her hand a reassuring squeeze before heading out the room. Jenny rubs at her eyes and wipes at her nose while Yaz is gone in a bid to compose herself, ignoring the way her vision is still slightly misted.

When she returns, Yaz sits next to Jenny on the bed, something hidden in her hands. “You know,” Yaz starts, “you’re still supposed to spend a few more days like this. But it’s not fair, I can’t do that to you.” 

Yaz’s words make absolutely no sense and Jenny goes to question her but is stopped by Yaz’s delicate fingers pressing on her lips. “Let me finish.” Jenny nods slowly and Yaz pulls her fingers away before continuing. “So… Doctor, I’m sorry, but I don’t care if you’re mad at me. I’m just going to have to trust the aliens have gone.”

Jenny laughs, though it lacks humour. “Yaz what on Earth are you on about with Doctor’s and aliens? Are you sure _ you _ didn’t do any drugs when you went out of the room?”

Yaz replies with a watery chuckle, pressing the item into Jenny’s hand and giving it a light squeeze, releasing it to reveal — _ a fob watch? _

“Yaz what–” 

“You should be the one to open it.”

Jenny’s face morphs into confusion. “I– I don’t understand.”

“If you open that, the way you’re feeling now? It’ll go away.”

“What?” Her eyes widen, and when she looks into Yaz’s own, all she sees is the truth. “You’re not messing with me.”

“No.”

“Yaz–”

“I promise.” 

Suddenly, Jenny feels nervous, the watch in her hands carrying an unnatural weight like it was packed full of something that shouldn’t be there. Something that was ready to burst free. She’s hesitant, running the pad of her thumb over the circular patterns that engrave it. Somewhere deep inside she feels like she knows what it means, and it scares her. Yaz seems to sense her nerves however, lifting her chin to hold their gaze and leaning in to leave a gentle peck on the corner of her mouth. “I’m always with you.” she promises. 

And without looking back down, Jenny opens the watch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only one chapter left folks! I'm kinda sad!


	5. But you'll heal over in time, I promise you will be fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we're at the end already!!
> 
> This was honestly so much fun to write and I can't thank you all enough for your kudos and comments it all means so much!! <3333
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this final chapter because it was actually quite hard to write the aftermath

When she wakes, her head pounds and it feels like two hangovers in one, though from what she can remember swarming in her head, it’s more like nearly three weeks worth of hangovers. She sits up slowly, and she reckons if your brain could slosh around in your head, hers would be doing that right now. She rubs at her temples as she stands, using the mattress as support to hold herself up and take a deep breath. The weight on her shoulders has certainly lifted. So she stretches, releasing all the tension in her muscles right down to the fingertips, both of her hands, however, experiencing an unpleasant tug. Lifting them into view, she discovers bandages and bruised knuckles. Already she has questions.

Though for now, the Doctor felt like she was breathing for the first time in a long while. The constant weight of the universe she had become accustomed to still hung off her back, but it was a weight that was manageable, one that was…. ok. 

She quietly pads through the flat, struggling to comprehend the mess she’s lived in for the past couple of weeks, until she stumbles across Yasmin Khan passed out on her sofa. The fluttering feeling she remembers her human self craving yet not understanding comes back, but it’s still terrifying. Because the Doctor remembers, she knows  _ exactly  _ what that feeling is, she can still taste it on her lips, and the scariest part? She wouldn’t mind tasting it again. 

She crouches down next to Yaz’s face, allowing herself to get lost in the peaceful expression of her companion, eyes continually dropping back to her lips. She knows  _ for certain  _ she wants to kiss Yasmin Khan again. 

“Yaz,” she whispers gently, stroking her cheek lightly with the back of her index finger when she receives no response. “Yaz.” the Doctor coos, a little louder this time and Yaz’s stirs, eyes fluttering open, still heavy with sleep. Until her brain catches up with what she’s seeing and she shoots up, her gaze piercing into the Doctor. 

“Doctor?!” she pauses, hesitant, “It is the Doctor I’m speaking to, right?” 

The Doctor just beams back a knowing smile and she sees Yaz visibly relax. “It is.” 

“Oh my God,” Yaz lunges forward, arms winding around the Doctor’s neck, holding on like she’s never going to let go. “Oh my God.”

The Doctor buries her face in Yaz’s natural curls, breathing in the scent of coconut shampoo and jasmine perfume, the smell so familiar and safe. It takes a few minutes for them to finally pull away, both their eyes brimming with tears before Yaz manages to speak up again. “I’m so glad you’re back,” she looks down shyly at her lap, “I missed you.” she murmurs, and the Doctor let out a watery chuckle. 

“I missed you too Yaz.  _ Very much,  _ if the way Jenny felt is anything to go by.”

Yaz’s face falls at the mention of the woman who was now gone forever, locked away somewhere in the back of the Doctor’s mind. “How much do you remember?” she asks nervously. 

“About as much as she did to be honest. God the amount of vices I– she had, it’s made a lot of it a blur,” she shivers just  _ thinking _ about the stuff she’s put into her body, when one memory in particular comes to the forefront of her mind. “Did I seriously do cocaine?” 

“Yes. You did.” Yaz replies sternly, her disapproval clear. 

“Alright, PC Khan!” the Doctor puts her hands up in faux surrender, eliciting a light chuckle from the both of them, the Doctor’s however, quickly turning into a coughing fit. Yaz rubs her back in soothing circles until she’s calmed down, and she lets out a huff of frustration. “Bloody hell she smoked a lot! I hate cigarettes! It’s all I can taste.  _ Urgh. _ ” she sticks her tongue out in complaint and Yaz laughs again, the sound light and airy. _ And oh how the Doctor has missed hearing that sound for herself. _

Yaz shifts on the sofa, making space for the Doctor and patting the cushion next to her in an invitation that she accepts. The younger woman twists in her seat, both their knees lightly knocking together as she reaches out for the Doctor’s hands, her expression falling serious. “How’re your hands?” she asks gently, thumbs running lightly over her knuckles.

“They're okay, a little sore but nothing I can’t handle. What happened?” she asks, curious. 

“Well this one,” Yaz lifts her bandaged hand, “you smashed a glass. And this one,” she raises her other hand, “you punched a bloke.” 

The Doctor’s jaw drops. “I  _ punched  _ someone?! What did I do that for?!”

“I was surprised too! But  _ apparently  _ some guy in a club was annoying you, so you clocked him on the nose and broke it.” 

The Doctor feels guilt twist in her gut for the man she had hit, but before she can dwell on it on further, Yaz ducks her head to catch the Doctor’s gaze. 

“Hey, it's not your fault, ok? It wasn’t you. It was Jenny.” Yaz affirms, and the Doctor nods, Yaz was right. It wasn’t her, it can’t have been her. 

A brief silence hangs between the two women, until Yaz clears her throat, a slight frown creasing her brow as she prepares to speak. “Doctor? Um…” she starts, clearly nervous, “Are you ok? Like,  _ really  _ ok? And don’t say ‘you’re fine’ because I know you’re not. Jenny– she told me a lot. About how she was feeling, and it seemed like she was just a person trying to hold the weight of thousands of years worth of trauma and guilt and she didn’t know what to do with it. And I know you’re back to being you, but is that all still there? Because you know you can talk to me... if it gets too much.” she finishes, and the Doctor can see in her eyes that Yaz is hoping to try and offer her some comfort and respite. She just wants to help, and it makes the Doctor nervous. 

“Yaz!” the Doctor plasters on a false smile, trying to be almost playful, trying to hide how she really feels, but the smile drops when Yaz’s expression only stiffens in seriousness. “I–” she huffs, falling short and giving in. “I’m old, Yaz.  _ So old.  _ Older than I was ever supposed to be. And something like that it– it takes its toll. I’ve seen a lot and done so much more and a good chunk of it I'm not proud of. So sometimes,” she takes a deep breath, and Yaz gives her hand a reassuring squeeze, “it’s hard, not to let it consume you. And all of that squished inside a human body? I think Jenny let it consume her.” 

She doesn’t even realise a tear has fallen free until Yaz reaches up to wipe it from her cheek, her hand remaining in place, thumb stroking softly against her skin. The Doctor leans into the touch, appreciating the comfort, it was rare to speak so honestly with a companion, but she knew exactly why she had this time. 

“Thank you. For letting me in.” Yaz smiles, full of affection and admiration and the Doctor’s heart swells, reminding her of something else she knows they need to discuss. 

“I kissed you.” the Doctor states softly, and Yaz’s eyes widen before she ducks her head shyly, though unable to conceal the blush that coats her cheeks.

“Yes, you did. Quite a bit, actually.” Yaz replies, flustered. 

“I understand though,” the Doctor starts, being the one to turn serious now, “why you pushed me away. I know Jenny was upset at the time but I understand why you did it. It was the right thing to do.” she nods. After a moment, the Doctor squeezes Yaz’s hands, her face turning quizzical as a request dances on the tip of her tongue. “Actually, Yaz,” she locks eyes with the younger woman, Yaz’s expression anticipatory, like she was already preparing her response. “Do you think–”

The door buzzes, breaking the moment, and Yaz quickly jumps to her feet, eyes like a deer-in-headlights. “That’ll be the boys. After you passed out last night I gave them a call and told them what happened. Said they should come round in the morning.” Yaz rushes as she jogs out the room to go let the two men in while the Doctor remains seated, her hands suddenly feeling cold without the warmth of Yaz’s own. She rubs her eyes, takes a deep breath, and stands just as Ryan and Graham enter. The Doctor plasters a smile on her face, arms opening wide. “My boys, come here!” They waste no time in wrapping her in a bone-crushing hug, Yaz quickly joining in on the action. 

When they finally separate, the Doctor feels a surge of happiness flow through her at having her fam back together again, though one worrying thought does plague her mind. “How long was I human for? Is it safe?” she asks expectantly, worry bubbling in her chest at the looks her friends are shooting each other. “Fam?” Her hands rest on her hips, and Yaz can’t look her in the eyes as she quietly answers. 

“It is a few days earlier than you said.” 

“What?! Why?” 

“Doctor, I couldn’t just  _ leave  _ you the way you were! It wasn’t fair on you. You were so depressed and you had absolutely  _ no _ care for your own wellbeing. A couple more days like that and God knows what you could’ve done to yourself!” Yaz responds, confident in her choice even though tears glisten in her eyes and the Doctor slumps. Yaz’s argument was valid, and the young woman’s misty eyes make the Doctor soften immediately. She couldn't stay mad. Not when all Yaz was trying to do was look out for her. 

“Ok,” she reaches out, rubbing Yaz’s arm gently and offering her a small smile. “But we are going to have to stay here for a couple more days, just in case. Can’t have them tracking the TARDIS’ energy when we leave, otherwise this would’ve all been for nothing.” she concludes, and her friends nod in reluctant agreement, clearly not too happy with how the 1980s has been treating them. 

There’s an awkward silence that hangs between them briefly, the Doctor so used to filling it but still feeling the leftover exhaustion from her life as Jenny. 

This time, it’s Graham. “Who wants a cuppa?”

* * *

After a few more days in 1985 the fam finally find themselves back on the TARDIS, floating through the vortex. As the Doctor walks back through the corridors of her ship she can hear the echoes of idle conversation from her companions as she finally steps back into the console room. They pause when they see her, smiles lighting up all their faces as she beams back. 

“Much better, Doc.” Graham says, approving of the change back into her normal attire. 

“Yeah, you looked so weird in normal people clothes.” Ryan chuckles, faux offense morphing on the Doctor’s face. 

“Thanks Ryan! I only keep you around for the compliments!” she calls out playfully, rolling her eyes as she makes her way over to her fam, wrapping the young man in a light hug. 

“You look great,” Yaz smiles warmly, the Doctor returning the action, though their eyes shine with something deeper. 

Graham clears his throat to pull them from their trance, and points to the console. “So you gonna get us home then Doc? I’m dying to get back to 2019. I’ve had enough of the 80s for my lifetime.” 

“Yeah me too! Never realised how much I’d miss my laptop.” Ryan agrees. 

“‘Course!” the Doctor twists her form, hand landing on a lever as she raises her brows. “Sheffield, here we come.” 

She lands them just outside Ryan and Graham’s house, the boys calling their goodbyes, eager to get back to modernity, but not before making sure she’ll pop in to see them the next day so they know she’s ok. She promises, appreciating their concern as she waves them off. 

The boys’ exit leaves her and Yaz alone properly for the first time since… since they nearly–

“Doctor?” Yaz calls from the other side of the console, capturing her attention.

“Hm?” 

“About what happened… when you were Jenny. Between us.” Yaz starts, jumping straight in at the deep end. 

“Yeah?” she asks softly.

“I just– I want you to know that I didn’t want to have to stop…” Yaz takes pause, trying to read the Doctor’s face. “kissing you.”

“Yaz…” 

“And I don’t know if you feel the same as she did but I just couldn’t keep it in. I wanted you to know. And now you do. And I don’t really know what else to say. I just needed to get it off my chest and if you don’t feel the same way that’s fine.” she trails off, giving the Doctor an awkward smile.

“Yaz, come here.” she gestures, so the younger woman slowly makes her away around the console and when she’s close enough, the Doctor grabs her face, pulling her into a wanton kiss. Yaz immediately responds, her hands grabbing at the Doctor’s forearms as their mouths move against each other, soft and gentle, until the Doctor reluctantly pulls away, leaving them both breathless. She keeps their foreheads resting together as she holds Yaz’s gaze, “I never want to stop kissing you. Got that?” she grins, and Yaz nods in response, tipping onto the balls of her feet to reach the Doctor’s mouth and capture her lips once more. 

“Got that.” she murmurs in confirmation into the Doctor’s mouth, and when they finally pull away again, Yaz’s pupils are blown wide and the Doctor knows hers are the same. 

“Come to bed?” she whispers, watching Yaz’s eyes widen as she nods hastily, swallowing hard, and the Doctor knows they’re both feeling the same anticipation for what the rest of the night holds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's it!! they got all the smooches they deserved because i love them too much for this to have ended any other way!
> 
> and as i said in the beginning notes i really hope you all enjoyed and please let me know what you thought of this final chapter!!! 
> 
> <333

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! (I crave that sweet sweet validation)


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